< 117. The Pearl of the Wilderness, Ptaha (2) >
*
The night in Ptaha was dazzling. The undead, who had no need for sleep, threw festivals and banquets as if there were no tomorrow, laughing and chattering away.
Some pretended to be heavily drunk, staggering their way home. Others boasted about their heroic deeds, while a few bold specters suddenly drew their curved swords and challenged others to duels. Both the challengers and the responders were merely playing the role of drunkards, and no one took it seriously.
This city was like a daydream. A fantasy created by the undead who believed—or had to believe—that they were still alive.
Ptaha was the desperate struggle of the undead, unable to accept their state after the boundaries of the Soul Realm had collapsed.
Thus, they did not discriminate against the living. Because they themselves were pretending to be alive. A pitiful deception.
However, ironically, this made it all the easier for the living to infiltrate this City of Wraiths.
‘How pitiful.’
-Is that sincere?
‘Yes. Those fools know that this festival will inevitably end one day, and in a very ugly way. They just refuse to face their own demise until that day comes.’
That’s why it’s pitiful. Fernandez sat quietly, his calm eyes gazing down at them from the city’s spire.
-You know, don’t you? Your way of thinking is no longer the same as mine.
‘Didn’t we agree that it’s a difference created by the flesh?’
-That’s just a hypothesis. We have other hypotheses, don’t we?
‘…Yes. A hypothesis I don’t want to accept.’
When Faijashi and I returned to the past. That is, a little over a year ago. In front of the campfire in that cold coniferous forest, on the eve of my 16th birthday.
At that time, the soul of Faijashi, an eighty-year-old man, had entered this body. Clearly, he was the same person as before. Even though he now inhabited a young body, his essence hadn’t changed.
But from the moment Vaitas implanted the Stigma and split the soul, Fernandez and Faijashi began to walk entirely different paths.
This was intentional. They had decided not to follow the records of the past and to use their power to save this world this time.
However, even their tendencies and emotions were no longer the same as Faijashi’s. Fernandez and Faijashi came up with one hypothesis.
‘The soul of the sixteen-year-old Fernandez.’
Where had the soul of Fernandez, who had lived for sixteen years before Faijashi entered the body, gone? According to Vaitas, who claimed to have created the horizontal world, that soul must still be here.
What if the fragments of that fragile soul, which had been melting under the weight of Faijashi’s powerful spirit, had taken on Faijashi’s memories and become independent? What if it was a newly constructed soul, arranged by Vaitas?
This emotional, impulsive, passionate, and sometimes excessively ‘righteous’ behavior. What if it was created by Vaitas?
It was a horrifying hypothesis. Fernandez didn’t want to believe that his spirit, soul, and essence had been woven by someone else.
‘I am an independent being. Faijashi.’
-I hope so. Otherwise, wouldn’t it be too ridiculous? The whole puppet show of ours.
‘Even if it were so.’
Fernandez looked up at the night sky. Toward the vast expanse of the heavens scattered with stars. His blue eyes glowed gloomily.
He stared at the beings who were watching them from somewhere far away.
The sealed Temple of the Gods in the heavens. Toward Vaitas, who was watching him from above. As if declaring, he spoke briefly.
‘I am an independent being.’
He and the gods were not in a hierarchical relationship. They were partners. And Fernandez would never sign an unequal treaty.
Even if the end of this journey was nothing but a game, even if all these events were part of a scheme in your palm.
‘If there’s no part for me, there’s no part for you either. Vaitas.’
A pawn with his son’s life as collateral? Of course. But Fernandez was not subjugated to Vaitas.
Because Vaitas, too, had his daughter and this world as collateral.
-*Whistle*… *Boom!*
A firework slid across the night sky and exploded brilliantly above his head. The undead, who were celebrating, chattered noisily as they poured wine and food into their hollow stomachs.
Fernandez turned his gaze to a building in the distant Garam district.
‘The signal fire has been lit.’
It was time to begin. He stood up, strapping his greatsword to his back. Soon, his shadow swept across the rooftops.
*
Selina Kesselhof. Team leader of the Western Strategy Team 3, also known as the ‘Grave Hounds,’ of the Imperial Iron Side’s Gray Circle.
She was lamenting her situation as she looked down at the spoiled wine that emitted a sour smell.
The undead had no sense of smell. They tolerated most food ingredients as long as they were ‘plausible.’
Thus, among the many ‘wines’ they possessed, very few actually fell into the category of real wine.
[Come on, drink up! Hahaha!]
“…Yes, yes.”
Selina looked at the undead, who were noisily chattering and flaunting their ornate gold jewelry, with pity.
Those vain undead were still pretending to be living nobles, adorned with the excessive luxuries and burial goods they had possessed in life.
“Sigh…”
How had she ended up like this? Selina poured the wine away, avoiding the undead’s eyes, and forced a smile to appease them.
Hiding a sigh, she grabbed her pipe, and one of her subordinates approached from behind, leaning in to whisper in her ear.
“Team leader. Imperial intelligence.”
“Speak.”
“The Shaksisi have all disappeared.”
“…What? They retreated?”
“According to the situation… There’s information that a large number of the living have fled near the West Gate.”
“Source?”
“We have someone who bribed the guards. It’s almost certain.”
“Prepare.”
Selina crushed the tobacco leaf and took a sip of water. A spark from her finger lit the end of the pipe.
*Inhale.* The sound of dry leaves burning could be heard. Soon, white smoke seeped from her mouth.
She whispered in a quiet voice.
“Prepare for their ambush. It’s a trap.”
“…Would they be crazy enough to attack where the prince is?”
The subordinate glanced at the noble who was laughing and chatting. Prince Meremre. He had defeated the Beastman Nobility who had fled to the Empire, and after his rival Neferka suffered an absurd defeat, his political standing had skyrocketed.
He was one of the top five figures in the court of Pharaoh Tutankhamun Gartep. His personal skills were also outstanding, and in close combat, he was always counted among the top warriors below the Great Warrior.
He seemed like nothing more than a stupid, vain, and incompetent undead. But attacking him in the heart of the city meant having no intention of surviving in this city.
Therefore, Selina had not acted immediately, even though she had known for days that the Shaksisi were hiding. Attacking rashly would only scatter them and cause trouble.
As the leader of the strategy team, she had learned to see the bigger picture. And if you’re going to see the big picture, it’s always more strategic to push the situation to its worst extremes.
‘Neither the enemy nor our allies can grasp the situation…’
“That was the motto of Strategy Team 3. Selina deliberately left a gap. To pressure Kirzat so the Shaksisi couldn’t wait any longer. So they would attack her and the Pharaoh directly.
That day would be their funeral. Scattered assassins were annoying, but an army charging together was easier to handle.
-*Piririlik*… *Boom*!!
The hall was instantly dyed in a dazzling light as fireworks exploded above their heads. What idiot set off fireworks this close? Selina frowned and looked up at the sky.
And then, she sensed the flickering flow of magic in the midst of it.
“They’re coming!!”
A fierce smile spread across her lips. Setting a trap and ambushing? An ambush is supposed to be something the enemy doesn’t expect.
Let’s show the Sultan’s dogs what a real ambush looks like.
*
The Garam District was a wealthy area. Neatly organized roads and beautiful waterways with clear water lined the streets, and magical lanterns illuminated the area.
It was a surprisingly advanced civilized city. Fernandez stepped on the rooftops of the Garam District, hiding from the patrolling guards below.
Well-armed and trained guards were on patrol. Taking them down would be easy, but that wasn’t his role. It was Shaksisi’s job to disrupt their patrol patterns.
In this operation, his mission was singular.
Fernandez carefully stepped along the eaves and moved forward. Angela had hidden in her massive mansion. A beautiful building with a courtyard.
Not far away, Angela was seen chatting with elegantly dressed wraiths. The courtyard, surrounded by walls, was in the midst of a banquet.
‘Found her.’
Finally. Fernandez placed his hand on the hilt of his sword and jumped down from the wall. His purple robe fluttered in the wind.
-*Whoosh*.
The robe spread wide as he landed on the ground. Fernandez slowly stood up, feeling the gazes pouring onto him. No need to rush.
This mansion was already completely surrounded by Shaksisi. Even if some commotion broke out, the guards would be too late to help. Shaksisi were experts in disruption.
[Who’s there? You insolent brat. How dare a vagrant enter here… What are the guards even doing!!]
A noble-looking wraith’s escort drew a curved sword and shouted. Fernandez ignored the shout and turned his gaze to Angela, who was staring at him.
“You… Ha, haha. You teamed up with Shaksisi? Those damn bastards acted so boldly because of you.”
“If anything, it’s because of you.”
Fernandez pulled back his hood and took a step forward. At that moment, the escort swung his curved sword and charged at him.
[You scum!!]
-*Clang*!!
Without taking his eyes off Angela, Fernandez drew his greatsword and swung it. A fluid draw and slash. The escort’s waist was severed, and he collapsed to the ground. The wraith’s body crumbled into dust.
[You madman!!]
Prince Meremre, who had been watching the scene, jumped up and shouted. The mummies beside him drew their swords and charged at Fernandez.
But still, Fernandez kept walking toward Angela.
“Think you can survive this? You got lucky in Mosat City, Saint.”
Fernandez took another step forward, sneering at Angela. The escorts swung their curved swords and screamed at him.
-*Crunch*!
The greatsword cut through the air. Along with it, the wraiths’ arms, legs, and heads scattered into the air. Like a lion walking through a flock of sheep. Fernandez didn’t stop. He glared at Angela with sunken eyes.
“Pray… No. Don’t pray, Angela.”
“…What?”
“Prayer is the final plea for a repentant believer.”
-*Crunch*!
Once again. The greatsword sliced through the air. The remains of the wraiths were swept away and rolled on the ground. Fernandez stepped over their crumbling bodies, moving forward step by step.
“Don’t speak to any god. The verdict for you remains, and you no longer have the right to defend yourself. So, be silent. And don’t kill yourself yet.”
“…You’re funny. Playing priest now? You should be the one praying! This will be your grave. Albert! No, Fernandez Sernerd! You damn brat!”
Angela laughed harshly. Fernandez cut down the last wraith approaching him and looked at her. He felt a powerful magic surrounding her. The mansion was filled with mana.
And hidden throughout the mansion were mages preparing to attack him. Fernandez could sense their presence in the flow of mana.
-They’re well-prepared.
‘So are we.’
The basics of strategy lie in preparation. War is about who has prepared more resources for the decisive moment. The same goes for mages—
In the realms of intrigue, subterfuge, and schemes. And in the realm of magical combat. Faijashi had never been defeated.
-*Piririlik*… *Boom*!
Fireworks exploded above their heads. Fernandez felt the Empire agents’ explosive magic being charged, aimed at him.
“Religious Tribunal Judicial Authority. Heresy Execution Authority. Exorcism Military Authority. Church Sacrament Proxy Authority. By the authority granted by the Temple of the Gods, I hereby conduct a heresy trial. Selina Kesselhoff.”
“You’re insane!! What are you doing? Everyone! Kill that brat—“
“May the Temple of the Gods grant us protection.”
-*Piririlik*…
As the sound of fireworks shooting up was heard,
-*Kwaaaaang*!!!!
“Kyaaaaak!!”
A massive explosion and tremor shook the entire building from the ground up. The building? No, the entire city was experiencing an earthquake.
The banquet tables rolled on the ground, and both wraiths and humans lost their balance, staggering. The sound of objects breaking beyond the walls, the ground collapsing, bricks cracking, and eaves shattering followed.
-*Kwaaaaang*!!
In the distance, flames erupted. Black smoke began to rise from various parts of the city.
-*Step*.
Fernandez steadied himself amidst the earthquake and took another step forward.
“The crime of plotting the assassination of a priest. The war crime of bombing an innocent commercial city. The crime of awakening wraiths and causing casualties. The crime of daring to covet divine authority and entrusting your life to wraiths, betraying the value of life.”
“What are you doing! You crazy brat! Kill him, kill him!!”
-*Kwaaaaang*!
Amidst the chaos, the trained Empire agents’ magic exploded toward him. Simple yet powerful effects, the Empire’s unique explosive magic experts.
-*Whoosh*.
Fernandez quickly gestured with his free hand. Soon, a rough explosion erupted beside him, and a cloud of dust rose.
-*Kurururung*…
The city was still shaking violently. Angela, who had regained her senses, struggled to stand up on the trembling ground.
Soon, as the dust settled, the hem of a purple robe became visible. The robe, torn here and there from the explosion, and a rough hand covered in old scars!
Angela gritted her teeth and glared at Fernandez’s gloomy eyes shining through the dust.
“May the Temple of the Gods grant us protection. The defendant’s sentence is death.”
Beyond the shattered walls from the earthquake, the burning cityscape was visible. Fernandez walked toward Angela, his back to the flames.
Step by step. Without rushing.
There was no need to rush. Everything was going according to plan. The sound of guards running in all directions. And the clashing of weapons. The screams and cries of wraiths mixed in between.
“What have you done…!!”
“The defendant shall remain silent.”
Fernandez raised his greatsword high. The dark blade gleamed ominously in the moonlight. Neferka did well. He looked at Angela, who was frantically gesturing.
“Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.”
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